snow-covered asphalt, I was dragged away. I looked up at my captor, sagging a bit when I saw Law. At least I knew the asshole.
I struggled trying to get free, but Law kept me pressed tightly against him. I had to watch limply as Morris made his way out of the restaurant and to his car while Law dragged me further and further away. Morris sat himself in the driver’s seat and I reached a hand out futilely, as if I could yank him away and to my side. I kept my gaze pinned on Morris until Law pulled me all the way around a building, completely out of sight. Nestled between two dumpsters, Law finally let loose his hold of me.
“What the hell are you doing?” he whisper-yelled.
“What am I doing? What are you doing?” I pushed him until there was a good foot of distance separating us. “Get off me!”
“It looked like you were about to commit murder.” Law folded his arms and inspected me. “I was stopping you from making a huge mistake.”
“You have no idea what I was going to do.” And he didn’t. I wasn’t going to murder Morris, even if that’s what it looked like. I was just going to scare him. I wanted him to know, with no uncertainty, that he hadn’t ruined me.
Law reached for me again. I tried to maneuver away but he was too quick. He clasped a hand around my arm and yanked my gun out of the other. He dragged me back out of the alley and to a black Range Rover. I struggled the entire way, but it was useless, like fighting against a tornado.
“What are you doing?” I asked, hoping my fear wasn’t evident.
“We’re going back to my place,” Law grunted, not even bothering to turn back to me.
“Like hell we are!” Ignoring me, Law opened up the passenger door and pushed me inside.
“This is fucking kidnapping!” I screamed as Law shoved me inside. As I tried to open the door, Law sat inside and locked them.
“Look, Nami, I’m not trying to kidnap you.” Law’s tenor was smooth and low, like he was explaining why our dinner plans had changed and not why he was fucking kidnapping me. “I just want to talk.”
“So talk,” I exclaimed. “Don’t kidnap me.”
Law started the car and said, “I know that tattoo on your body isn’t just art.”
“You don’t know anything.” Absently I looked at the tattoo that snaked across my arm. It was one of many I’d had done during the media circus after my rape. I had birds on my collarbone and a tree on my abdomen, but the one on my arm was by far the most significant. It was a snake shedding its skin because the scales had caught fire. I was inspired by a phoenix. With phoenixes, no matter how many times they burst into ashes, they are always reborn more beautiful. I chose a snake instead of a phoenix because it felt apropos. You know, because of the reptile in a suit currently hijacking my life.
I needed to feel some kind of control. Inking my purpose gave me that control. Law was right, it wasn’t just art. It was my coat of arms, my purpose, and my drive. It reminded me every day what I had to do.
Law pulled out of the restaurant, still cool as a cucumber. I eyed my car and a brief thought entered my mind that it was the second time Law had driven me away from my car.
“You’re going to drive me back here,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“You’re driving me back here,” I repeated, louder. “I’m not taking a bus all the way back to fucking West Valley.” The last time he’d driven me home I’d had to bus it back to my car, but at least I’d been in the same city. This time it would take at least two hours to bus it back—assuming Law’s plans for me didn’t include murder.
“Fair enough,” Law replied. Feeling a little bit better about the situation, I unfolded my arms and regarded Law.
“You could have just asked me to come with you instead of, you know, dragging me across the lot and throwing me inside like a sack of potatoes.”
Law eyed me from his peripheral. “You would have come if I’d asked
I struggled trying to get free, but Law kept me pressed tightly against him. I had to watch limply as Morris made his way out of the restaurant and to his car while Law dragged me further and further away. Morris sat himself in the driver’s seat and I reached a hand out futilely, as if I could yank him away and to my side. I kept my gaze pinned on Morris until Law pulled me all the way around a building, completely out of sight. Nestled between two dumpsters, Law finally let loose his hold of me.
“What the hell are you doing?” he whisper-yelled.
“What am I doing? What are you doing?” I pushed him until there was a good foot of distance separating us. “Get off me!”
“It looked like you were about to commit murder.” Law folded his arms and inspected me. “I was stopping you from making a huge mistake.”
“You have no idea what I was going to do.” And he didn’t. I wasn’t going to murder Morris, even if that’s what it looked like. I was just going to scare him. I wanted him to know, with no uncertainty, that he hadn’t ruined me.
Law reached for me again. I tried to maneuver away but he was too quick. He clasped a hand around my arm and yanked my gun out of the other. He dragged me back out of the alley and to a black Range Rover. I struggled the entire way, but it was useless, like fighting against a tornado.
“What are you doing?” I asked, hoping my fear wasn’t evident.
“We’re going back to my place,” Law grunted, not even bothering to turn back to me.
“Like hell we are!” Ignoring me, Law opened up the passenger door and pushed me inside.
“This is fucking kidnapping!” I screamed as Law shoved me inside. As I tried to open the door, Law sat inside and locked them.
“Look, Nami, I’m not trying to kidnap you.” Law’s tenor was smooth and low, like he was explaining why our dinner plans had changed and not why he was fucking kidnapping me. “I just want to talk.”
“So talk,” I exclaimed. “Don’t kidnap me.”
Law started the car and said, “I know that tattoo on your body isn’t just art.”
“You don’t know anything.” Absently I looked at the tattoo that snaked across my arm. It was one of many I’d had done during the media circus after my rape. I had birds on my collarbone and a tree on my abdomen, but the one on my arm was by far the most significant. It was a snake shedding its skin because the scales had caught fire. I was inspired by a phoenix. With phoenixes, no matter how many times they burst into ashes, they are always reborn more beautiful. I chose a snake instead of a phoenix because it felt apropos. You know, because of the reptile in a suit currently hijacking my life.
I needed to feel some kind of control. Inking my purpose gave me that control. Law was right, it wasn’t just art. It was my coat of arms, my purpose, and my drive. It reminded me every day what I had to do.
Law pulled out of the restaurant, still cool as a cucumber. I eyed my car and a brief thought entered my mind that it was the second time Law had driven me away from my car.
“You’re going to drive me back here,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“You’re driving me back here,” I repeated, louder. “I’m not taking a bus all the way back to fucking West Valley.” The last time he’d driven me home I’d had to bus it back to my car, but at least I’d been in the same city. This time it would take at least two hours to bus it back—assuming Law’s plans for me didn’t include murder.
“Fair enough,” Law replied. Feeling a little bit better about the situation, I unfolded my arms and regarded Law.
“You could have just asked me to come with you instead of, you know, dragging me across the lot and throwing me inside like a sack of potatoes.”
Law eyed me from his peripheral. “You would have come if I’d asked
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